


Sunflowers of Kirkwall

by SugerG



Series: The Girl Out of Time [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Background Relationships, Big Brother Hawke, Change in Narration, Character Death, Complicated Relationships, Default Hawke (Dragon Age), Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting back into reading/writing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, LGBTQIA+, M/M, Mages (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, Magic, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Oblivious OFC, One-Sided Attraction, Original Mage Character - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Past Torture, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Doubt, Strangers to Acquaintances, Templars (Dragon Age), Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, acquaintances to friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugerG/pseuds/SugerG
Summary: Varric Tethras, the Grand Storyteller, Friend of the Champion of Kirkwall, and Mage Sympathizer tells the story of a young Juliet. Her beginnings were strange, as all out of time scenarios are, but he got to watch her grow alongside the Champion. A sister of sorts, a daughter to him (just don’t tell her that), and a lover to another.A mage at birth, and a mage in hiding at eighteen, with no blood family at her side, she fled to Kirkwall like so many other Fereldans during the Blight. She must unlearn what she loved about Tevinter—remember what they did and still do—and hide her abilities and scars. For all her sweetness and smiles, they won’t save her if Meredith finds out.





	1. Sitting by the Fire

Come; let me tell you are story. A story that I was a part of, mind you. Yes, you can sit there. Get comfortable; this is a long one. Tea and cookies? You’re starting to sound like an Orlesian. Okay, okay! I’ll send someone get them. Now, where should I start? Should I tell you about how she lived in the Tevinter Imperium for two years ? How she survived blood magic—twice? Once, before she came to our world, and the other in the Imperium. Oh? You don’t know of The Girl Out of Time? Not surprising. She doesn’t like that title too much. “It brings too much unwanted attention,” she often said. Although her other titles, hm, those could take away from it.

Perhaps I should start this story by saying: This is a story of a young woman, who, despite all odds, survived everything that everyone ever threw at her and became one of the strongest people I’ve come to know. She is a mage—an apostate by our standards—but lived in a place where magic isn’t real. Can you believe it? A place where magic isn’t real? Almost sounds like a dream come true to be honest, but, of course, there was magic. She knew it, from an early age, too. She hid her magic for years; her immediate family didn’t take kind to anything out of their normal.

Her magic is not the trick-of-the-eye or a flick of the wrist that street performers use, but _actual_ magic that flows through a person’s veins, embedded in their bones, and laced in their muscle. Those who possess this are not wicked witches or wizards in pointed hats, but mages. Wherein, there is a duality with healing and destruction. Beauty and peace intertwined with repulsion and chaos. Her words, not mine. What? I found it poetic.

According to her, so few people harbor magic in her time. If they do, fewer will believe them as science and reason has choked them of their creativity. True, science often explains why something happens now; it just can’t explain the greater phenomena.

There aren’t Circles from where she is either. Why would there be any? No mages, no Circles. One mage did teach her Primal Magic, though; she had to learn it in secret of course. That old bitch of a mentor played with her, tortured her in the end! Tried to—to—ugh, sorry. Just…guess what she tried to do.

That mentor of hers knew of her fears, and hung them above her head like a noose. Young mages often do die – mostly by their own hand or by another – all due to fear, hate, confusion, and misunderstandings. I can’t even begin to imagine her going through that. Nor do I want to. She already has so many scars.

I guess I should tell you this young woman’s name now, huh? Juliet . Her name is Juliet Wolf Flowers. And I first heard of her in Kirkwall’s Gallows…. 

 

Juliet steps off the ship, whose eyes instinctively move about behind tinted glasses to see anything that might cause her company trouble, only to see countless people walking around and away from them. All of the Fereldan refugees are grateful to be on solid land again, just as she is with her stuffed pack and two mabari at either side. The two of them seem equally thankful; Puppy (as she has yet to give him a proper name) flops to the ground with a huff and groan.

“No, don’t do that,” she says urgently as Fereldans begin to knock against her shoulders. They push and shove against her; some yell their frustrations at her, while others grunt their grievances under their breath. She ignores them all the same. “We need to talk with someone to let us in the city.” The crowd begins to push her away from the small thing, and Puppy is lost with pitiful whimpers. She sees him scamper under their feet, wanting to be with her. Although, not being stepped on has its appeal as well to him.

Kingpin , a massive black beast and Puppy’s father, trots after her a few yards back. His hackles twitch up at the rough and frantic humans. He is smart enough not to growl at them, and smarter not to snap at them for their mistreatment at his imprint and son. The other humans do part for him as they continue to carry the unwilling Juliet with them. “Would you just stop?” she shouts at them as she tries to fight to be with her only source of companionship here.

Juliet manages to break free from the sea of distraught people. She scrambles to the nearest wall with heavy huffs and crawled hands. Kingpin stands at her side. When her bag is at her chest, she presses her back against the wall. “Puppy! Where are you?” she calls out, brown eyes scanning the ground and in-between fast shuffling feet.

There’s a small yelp from where they all stepped off. With that pathetic cry, it feels as though a despair demon grips at her heart. Her throat closes up with her eyebrows rising up over her glasses.

Before she can even choke out an order, Kingpin rushes off with a deep bark. Fereldans screech in shock and worry. Most scramble out of the way for him, while others stumble back with the smallest collusion. In only a matter of seconds, Kingpin and Puppy are back at her side.

With shaky hands, Juliet takes the too-small mabari out of Kingpin’s mouth and into her arms. Holding onto him much like a mother would a newborn baby. “ _Please_ , stay with me.” The very idea of someone swooping him up sends her mind and heart racing. She should’ve held onto him—WHY didn’t she hold onto him? He may be a mabari, “a war hound” as the farmer family emphasized, but he’s still so young and underdeveloped. He still has his baby teeth for Christ’s sake!

Puppy wiggles in her grasp and licks at her nose, making her smile. It almost seems like a promise her that he’ll do his best next time. What the farmer said about mabari echoes in her head, “The mabari is clever enough to speak, and wise enough to know not to.” Such a saying gets more truthful as time moves on with her two.

Unable to support the both of them, and her bag, she slides down the wall with her legs tucked under her. The grip she has on the pup loosens until her hands rest on her lap. Puppy stands on his hind legs to lick at her jaw; she pets him and kisses the side of his face. Kingpin sits tall beside her. Behind her tinted glasses, Juliet watches the fleeing Fereldans attempt to enter the city. Armored guards shout above the masses; ordering them all to get back and wait. One man even attempts to climb the walls before a guard rips him off and threatens his life at sword point. No one does anything to stop the threat. The man scrambles up and away, until he is lost among the rest of them.

_Perhaps_ , she tells herself as she watches on; _speaking to someone now isn’t the best idea._

Juliet settles herself in a more comfortable position, so that she may rest against something more solid. Puppy falls in-between her now crossed legs, yapping up at Kingpin with his awkward-big puppy paws against her knee. Trying to assess her new situation, Juliet continues to watch the sea of people. Only a few are entering the city. Phrases involving “business” and “family here” jump out over the crowd. Such claims make butterflies swarm in her stomach – up, down, round and round. Her fingers mindlessly trace the familiar designs of her left leather bracer. How can she possibly get in with no connections? No home? No family or friends? No job opportunities? She won’t be able to use her magic here either, just like in Ferelden. 

She knows little about the herbs here—this time—as well. Only knowing that elfroot is a common ingredient for nearly everything – healing potions and poultices in particular. Even so, the lack of knowledge about this city makes her ill at ease. _Can this city be that different from the outskirts of Lothering?_ Her fingers, having traced every flower on her bracer, find their way to play with Puppy’s ears and chubby puppy body. He enjoys the attention, even rolls onto his back with playful growls.

The refugees become a blur of muted colors and fearful shouts. Most of them have nothing. She has some things at least—money, and things she could sell if the time presents itself—tucked away safely at her side. That calms her just a bit.

Lifting Puppy out of her lap, she sets him between herself and Kingpin. He gruffs his displeasure and tugs at her loose end of her tunic , until she gently reprimands him. “No, don’t do that.” She tosses out his stuffed turnip toy, to which he attacks in all his ferocity. Kingpin perks up at the play; he plays with him, only for the little thing to dash off in a form of keep away. Undisturbed by her mabari, Juliet drags her bag into her lap. She shuffles through until she finds her common comfort. Since the tragic death of her cell phone, books of fiction became a decent form of escapism for her over the last few years. Anything involving dragons are her favorite.

She finishes the first one and starts the second; keeping her bag wrapped across her chest and in her lap. Kingpin, having grown tired of his son’s antics and strange people petting him, watches all passersby next to Juliet. His hackles rise up at any that draw too close. Puppy does the same, albeit less frightening in front of the bigger mabari with a fuzzy turnip in his mouth. Every couple of hours all three of them get up and walk about the Gallows. She only heard the name when she passed those who arrived before her ship, which was days ago apparently. Not wanting to raise anyone’s ire, she only makes the briefest eye contact with who she thinks is in charge. A lingering gaze and a quirk of his brow being his only form of acknowledgement.

_Patience_ , she tells herself, as she pushes up her glasses, _have patience._

At the farthest end, away from most people, she plays with her mabari. Fetch, tug-of-war, and rough housing take her further away from any anxious thoughts. She has the money, her Tevinter friend made sure of that before she left, she just can’t spend it all in one place. Food, clean water, and a place to live are the three necessities she knows she will need. Kirkwall does not sound like an entirely safe place to rest her head, but it can’t be any worse than the Imperium. Her dogs—mabari will keep her safe. Without any training from Juliet, Kingpin had protected her from all possible horrible outcomes. Yet, in all Kingpin’s serious persona and battle scars, he is still young enough for playtime. In between the play, Juliet attempts to train Puppy with a little help from the more experienced war hound. 

By the third day, less and less refugee ships arrive. Nevertheless, she repeats the process of sitting and reading, walking the perimeter of the Gallows, and playing with her mabari adding some training in wherever she can. Only to read some more, until it is too dark to do so. That’s when they eat, in her designated dark corner away from prying eyes. During the long daylight hours, Juliet feels practically sick with hunger. She does what she can so that Kingpin and Puppy don’t starve. The food she brought will only last so long between the three of them, but it’s best not to complain to the guards right now. They are just as irritated as the refugees are.

_Besides_ , she tells herself, _Kingpin and Puppy might be able to hunt some rats here. Provided Puppy doesn’t chase them off first._

Memories of chasing after Puppy chasing after rabbits makes a smile bloom across Juliet’s face. After hours of being in the sun, the pup found his way onto her belly – his sleeping spot now, lulled by the day’s activities, a relatively full stomach, and gentle pets.

An abrupt shout from someone makes her yelp and jolt forward off the wall. Puppy, startled awake from his deep slumber, yelps out his fear. Kingpin’s head jerks up with docked ears forward with a hint of pointed teeth from under his jowls.

“Sorry,” Juliet leans back down, a hand on either of their backs.

Puppy barks at the crowd forming yards before them. His imprint places her hand over top his muzzle – afraid of adding more commotion. Sinking down lower into her spot, between Kingpin and her bag with a wall supporting her upper back, Juliet watches as City Guardsmen get between two families. The fathers are yelling at one another, their wives behind them are screaming, and their young children are crying. The word "thief" gets thrown about between them a lot. Other refugees get up and yell, too, but their words are lost. 

Juliet doesn’t get up.

There’s a ghost feeling between her shoulders. The sensation is an unwanted reminder that makes the back of her neck prickle.

Puppy rustles against her stomach, whimpering his unease now. Juliet alternates between pats and rubs along his back with deep breaths, while Kingpin remains attentive at the scene before him. He remains at his second imprint’s side. The weight of him is heavy and familiar; a comfort amongst this even newer city. Juliet’s hands remain on the pup after the situation settles with an unsheathed sword, a docked bow or two, and threats of deportation. 

The air in the Gallows practically vibrates with animosity. Everyone wants into the city. The more they wait, the more fights will become a common occurrence. Just for a moment, Juliet wonders what will happen to her if she is on the unfortunate side of a brawl. Kingpin, and most likely Puppy, will jump onto the opposing party. Kill them too probably.

In one breath, she remembers being drenched in blood, a monstrous snarl, and screams that she can’t recall the words to. In the next deeper breath, it fades away.

_“Whatever you do,” her Tevinter friend warned her at the docks, his fingernails biting into her shoulders, “do not get sent to a Circle.” They hugged for a long while, and she was off._

Another breath and Juliet is back to tasting Kirkwall’s ocean air. She sneezes.

“Bless me.”

Looking at all the refugees, less abrasive thoughts fill her head. She tries to count all the Fereldans she sees, only to loose count as they criss-cross in her field of vision to settle for the night. Families have broken off into small circles, while couples stay with other couples. Few children are among them with fewer grandparents. What little babies Juliet can make out in the dim torch light do not make a sound now. Fathers, and or the eldest son, remain watchful over their families. Either blatantly obvious with a ramrod back or sitting against the stonewalls as she often does. 

There are not many young, single women here. If there are, they are not as obvious about it as Juliet is.

Juliet straightens her back to appear more threatening than unsure. A big, mostly grown, muscle and scar-ridden mabari beside her might help. Fereldans know a lot about the breed.  
In a desperate attempt for sleep, she makes up of everyone’s story. Everyone has one, despite all of them fleeing the Blight; they have their own point of origin. Most of the stories she ends up creating are love stories. With so many intricate details weaving themselves in her head, some even overlap with others, exhaustion crawls up her legs, arms, spine, and sleep finally claims her.

Hours pass before there is movement in the Gallows. The City Guardsmen had thinned out over time. Many are with familiar faces, talking under their breath, at the city’s gates.

Two young Ferelden men with similar faces, square shoulders, and dressed in tattered clothes eye the sleeping Juliet. By the second day, they noticed her—and the odd things on her face and her odd behavior. The things over her eyes are the weirdest of all; by daylight, they were black but at night, they were transparent. Both men can see her eyes are closed. Her chest rises and falls in even breaths, too.

“Do you think we could take it?” one whispers, eyeing the brightly colored bag just out of his sight. “She doesn’t look very strong.” He only gives the briefest of glances at the thin silvery scars circling up her calves and biceps. Her mudded up green skirt cuts just above her knees and her boots only went to her ankles. The white tunic’s sleeves are torn and frayed, and her leather corset is dull from dust and sea air. She isn’t wearing any visible armor other than her bracers. There is a strange, what the man can only assume, ornate silver stick tucked behind her ear with a bright green stone at the top. They could steal and sell that, too. It looks expensive.

“It’s not her I’m worried about.” The other whispers, his gaze falls to where the older mabari once slept. 

“If we act quickly—”

“The pup could rip off your fingers.” Eyes fall to the brown pup with a black mask and paws. If the pup yelps or, worse, if the woman screams the bigger one won’t hesitate on ripping out either of their throats. Both of them have seen all three at play. It seems almost a tease—a threat during those daylight hours. Not only his strength and speed, but also the happiness they seem to all feel here. The woman even laughs!

“No, it couldn’t!” A seethed reply. “Look at how small it is. You know we can’t stay like this for much longer, brother. She must have something. You see how many books she has, or how close she keeps that thing to her? Dammit, you know we can—”

A low rumble cuts the younger one off. Their eyes rise up to the sound.

Each footfall Kingpin takes toward his son and imprint is silent, measured, and deliberate. His massive outline plays against the shadows, melting into them though not completely. His dark eyes flash at them in the dimming torchlight. The eldest son can just make out the fur along his spine stand on end until it bursts at the base of his neck. There must be just a threat of his teeth under those short jowls. Kingpin stands over Juliet’s lap as he glares and growls at the threats before him.

“C’mon,” the eldest steps back, watching the beast, “let’s get back to mother and father.”

With a huff, the youngest follows.

Kingpin remains in the position for a moment or two longer, before he settles on Juliet’s knees. His eyes flash left and right with twitching ears until she rests a gentle hand on his head. Her fingers brush through his short fur.

“Good boy,” she whispers.

Kingpin lets out a soft, pleased groan with a light swish of his stubby tail. They soon relax enough for sleep once more; lulled by the constant sound of the ocean and the weight and smell of the other.

 

Now, I’m sure you’re wondering, how I’ve heard of her when nothing extraordinary happened. No scuffles, no sweet-talking the guards, no intervening. Nothing like The Champion. Well, that’s just the thing, isn’t it? A young woman, with a bright yellow bag stuffed with books, traveling from Ferelden with only two mabari amongst hundreds of Fereldan refugees is strange enough, in my opinion. Even stranger is her glasses. My contacts told me that for all her standing at the sidelines, eyes hidden during the day, she had a straight back as if she knew something. Heh, I guess she did. With that damned “pen” and locket of hers anyway.

For all her strangeness, I told them to watch her.


	2. An Apostate in the City of Chains

“Today has got to be the day,” Juliet tells her company. “We have to get into the city.”

Kingpin boofs his reply. Puppy yips.

“How though?” Drumming her fingers along her chin, they remain standing in the shadows to observe the thinned out crowd. Only a few familiar faces remain from her voyage to Kirkwall. Mainly families with young children or older sons entered the city first. Now that things are settling, or as settled as can possibly be, the City Guard allows only a few non-business folk to enter. Had Juliet been prepared, she might have been able to look like actual businesswoman or a trader. Over the last few days, her dark hair has grown limp and heavy from all the built up natural oils. That morning, she took her silver-brown pen from behind her ear, twisted up her hair off her shoulders, and stuck it in the bun to hold the auburn tresses at the back of her skull. It almost felt like the oils on her head oozed down the rest of her body. Her skin went pink from overexposure of the sun and itchy from lack of proper bathing and skincare – much to her dismay, red flaky patches developed on parts of her body. Her skin was the least of her concerns; her belly seemed to constantly growl for a real meal. Thus far, none of them has stolen a thing. Juliet refuses to.

“It’s been six days. We’ve been patient and good, minded ourselves, and stayed out of the way. Why aren’t we—”

What refugees remain shout at the City Guardsmen.

“I can’t do what they’re doing.” Juliet reaches up from under her glasses to rub her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose. “Anger rarely goes anywhere with me.”

Kingpin snorts. Puppy sneezes, tail wagging.

“So,” a clap of the hands, “we’re in an agreement then? We don’t yell, we talk. Like adults. We’re old enough— _I’m_ old enough. I’ll see if there’s anything that can be done to get into the city. It can’t be too difficult, can it?”

Both mabari let out happy barks. Kingpin and Puppy bounce in circles at their imprint’s new found determination.

Juliet kicks herself off a pillar and walks into the light. A sense of resolve and daresay confidence flowing through her. Over the last few months, or has it been longer, such emotions almost seemed to have died away from her. It will be good for her to talk with someone who could speak her language, and not feel so attacked.

“You there!”

A squeak rips itself past her lips. Had she glanced in someone’s direction again? No one could see her eyes during the day; they all seemed to get jumpy at the sight of two black lenses aimed at their general direction. If it weren’t for her eyebrows shooting up, and the squeak, her shock might have gone unnoticed. A City Guardsman with bright red hair yells from the entrance. He points in her general direction, then ushers her over with a wave of his arm.

“You! With the strange things on her face.”

Juliet looks around with her pointer finger resting on her chest. No one else has “strange things” on their face, do they? She has yet to see someone like that. Even the Orlesians don’t have them. 

“Yes, you! Come ‘ere!” More ushering.

With smile, Juliet scoops up Puppy and rushes off to meet him. People scream their displeasure. “Why does she get to go in?” “What’s so important about her?” “That bitch gets to go in? I have kids!” “My wife’s pregnant! Why won’t you let us in?” “Sure, let that bitch and her two dogs in, but not the rest of us.” One enraged person even shouts, “Whore!” at her back.

The captain places his arm around Juliet’s shoulders to lead her away from the crowd. To keep such furious refugees at bay, the City Guardsmen are quick to fill the spot they once held. Guardsmen shout back, some even draw their weapons in the hopes to quiet the Fereldans. It works. _Templars will be needed here soon if this keeps up._

As Juliet and the captain walk down the corridor and up the stairs, she notices there are depictions of mass slaves in a similar copper metal to the crying and chained giants outside Kirkwall’s sea gates. The slaves are covering their ears with their mouths wide open. Square after square, she walks with them free of any visible chain, but with a person dressed in armor guiding her where she needs to be. Up the stairs, deeper into the Gallows. Closer to Templars. Closer to the Circle. 

The shouts from the mob follow her.

Feeling her distress, Kingpin walks closer at her side. His shoulders bump against her hip. Puppy licks under her chin. Such a familiarity eases her mind, brings her back to the moment. Those are real shouts, from real people. Angry people, but people nonetheless. She forces herself to look forward at the approaching sunlight. Had it not been for the darkening lenses over her eyes, the sun’s brightness would have hurt. The light within the courtyard chases away the yellow of the torches in the copper halls. Juliet can’t even hear the shouts anymore.

With the sun still so high, shadows cast short on the floor with some weeping statues glowing. Her gaze lingers on the bronze weeping men, their heavy collars wrapped around their neck, each pillar, and briefly on the iron bars.

They stop just at the base of a grand staircase. Guards stand vigilant at the top of the stairs with one on either side of the stairs and a third in the middle’s island. Pockets of Templars stand scattered throughout the courtyard with only a few standing by themselves. Circle Mages stand close together with Templars only yards away. Merchant stalls are by the doorways, urging people like Juliet to their wares. Life within the courtyard seems smothered by the imposing statues everywhere, for they depict a silent suffrage and cruelty. Their faces are unseen, but they have distorted bodies. Curled over themselves as they clutch their head sobbing or reaching out with clawed hands. For a moment, Juliet remembers the faces of the slaves in that Tevinter home. She can’t look at the statues without seeing them.

The tall white building that rests before Juliet, and all who have magic, seems all the more threatening to her life. _Kirkwall’s Circle. Perhaps I should—_

“Let it be known that it was only you not attacking my men or attempting to enter the city illegally that got you this far, Fereldan.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m not a Fereldan.”

“Then how—” His eyes fall down to the two mabari.

“I wasn’t born in Ferelden, but I stayed there for quite some time.” A hand falls down to the side of Kingpin’s face. The other balances Puppy, who pants at the Guardsman. 

“What business do you have in Kirkwall?”

Juliet places Puppy at her feet. “None, but I have money.” She quickly adds, hands flying to her bag. “How much?”

“Twenty sovereigns. You had coin all this time and didn’t step forward?”

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” She carefully counts the coin under her breath. The gold and silver colors wink up at her. “Here.” She offers the coin in a clenched fist. Can’t have it get swiped from her hand that way.

The man glances at the closed hand and up at the woman. He cannot see her eyes, unsettling as it is, but her lips rest in a worried line and her shoulders tremble. Her skin glistens with her personal oils and he spots a red patch on her left brow and another on her right collarbone. The clothes that she wears are loose, stained, and tattered. Even her dogs look like they need a bath or two.

Despite her state of being and the Blight, she has never tried to ease or sneak her way in. Each day Ewald accepted her to come up to him, swaying her hips and twirling her hair, to seduce him into letting her in the city. She never did, and she’s so close to entering the city now.

He accepts the money with a sigh. “You better keep that bag of yours close. With your coin,” he takes a bite of it to test its legitimacy, “you won’t have to speak with Knight-Commander Meredith just yet. Find a job—quickly we won’t house freeloaders now.”

“Knight-Commander?” There’s a flutter of fear in Juliet’s stomach at the templar title. Is she near? Her eyes sweep left and right; hoping to not see the elaborate armor in corner of her vision. Nothing extraordinary stands out to her.

“The power of Kirkwall,” he drawls out as if he said it a thousand times today, which brings Juliet’s attention back to him. His eyes flicker down and up her figure; such a look makes goose bumps rise on her flesh. “You should look into The Hanged Man or The Blooming Rose. Since you came with the Fereldans, and you have them,” he gestures to her mabari, “you might have better luck at the Hanged Man. They might have a room, too, if all the apartments are full.”

“Th-thank you. I’ll-I’ll look into that.” She shuffles in her spot, pressing her left forearm against her middle. Then, starts to readjust her bag into its proper place.

The desire to run to the docks is there, itching to get to the surface, but she only speed walks to the boats with her mabari at her heels. No doubt any other form of rush will seem odd to the templars on duty. It’s with an overly apprehensive boat captain that she, Kingpin, and Puppy makes the trip with. “There had only been one other family with a war hound,” he said as he readied the boat’s departure, “and they only had one.”

“Do you, do you have any advice for me?” she asks with a shy smile. Kirkwall is getting so close! Some buildings sparkle like diamonds in the sunlight, but the lower half is dull with shades of yellow and brown.

“Don’t go out at night, or, if ya’ do, bring him with ya.” He nods to the big dog curled at her feet. “The little one might get in the way.”

Puppy snorts at the man – lying on Juliet’s lap.

“He’ll grow.” She sits with a straighter back and squared shoulders as they come into port. “Anything else?” her expression and voice remain soft.

“Either keep all your valuables close to ya’ or hide ‘em real good.” The captain’s eyes fall to the golden amulet at her sternum, then her bag.

“Thank you, I’ll—I’ll be sure to do that.” She places the back of her heel on the bright yellow bag under her seat, behind Kingpin. 

After that, conversation falls into silence and within the hour, they’re at the docks. Puppy stays close to Juliet’s ankles as they walk from the docked ships and sailors. Everything is loud and busy, but the people are purposeful. Not angry or tired.

“C’mon,” Juliet picks Puppy up, “let’s find you guys some real food.”

The further they walk away from the docks, the less busy it gets. The air still smells like the sea, sweat, muck, and other unidentifiable smells. _I hope the smell can be washed off._ She can hear people’s conversations – not that she eases drops or anything. She merely notices keywords of conversations. One person mentions of going to the Hanged Man later that day. A grumbling stomach protests at such a late hour. _I’ll ask the next nice looking person._

In a fit of blind hunger, Puppy starts to mouth her bracer with tiny growls.

“Hey, don’t do that.” She puts him down, rubbing her bracer on her skirt. The designs on the cuff are slimy with tiny indents of puppy teeth; in time, the marks will go away. Thankfully, the flowers are still there and the edges are smooth.

He paws at her calf with tiny whimpers. His nails leave behind red trails.

“No. I know you’re hungry, we all are, but chewing this,” she holds out her left arm, “isn’t good for either of us. Okay?”

A small lick to her ankle, a whimper, ears tucked back, and puppy eyes look up at her.

“Okay then,” she sighs out. Once crouched down, Juliet pets his forehead with a single finger. “Only because you apologized so nicely, I’ll forgive you.”

Someone giggles in front of her. A woman, dressed in black, red, and golden robes, attempts to cover her laughter with a cough. “My apologies. I don’t see many sweet interactions like that between a dog and person. Andraste’s grace upon you.”

“O-oh, thank you. W-wait!” Juliet stands as the Chantry woman begins to walk away. “Do you—do you know where the Hanged Man is?”

“Why do you wish to visit that tavern?”

“To, um, get food and, uh, room and hopefully a job. We haven’t had a proper meal or a good night’s rest in days.”

“The Chantry accepts all those who seek the Maker’s light. We have food, drink, a bath house, and a place to rest your head.”

“I would hate to impose.” It was at this moment that Kingpin places a paw on her left foot. Pressing himself flush against her leg and hip. Juliet’s hand falls from right hip to the side of his face. Her branded arm feels like it’s burning. Each individual jagged line a cruel reminder of what she is.

Apostate.

“You wouldn’t.” The woman smiles kindly at her, her blonde hair mocking a halo. “The Chantry is located in Hightown. Just follow the stairs up, northeast; you should hear the hymns the closer you get.”

“Th-thank you.”

“May the Maker guide you.” 

The Chantry sister walks away with an easy smile, “gracing” others as they pass her.

Juliet’s shoulders shudder up and down in an attempt to remove the passive invasive reaction slithering up her spine. Such outcomes have only occurred a few times in her time in Thedas. One time it felt like her skin wanted to peel away from her bones – though that was with one of the most powerful Tevinter magisters and she had to play at their Game. Ballroom dancing never seemed so cutthroat. Nobility can have a kind smile, but a knife behind their back. In the end, she said and done all the right wrong things in front of the magisters, which marked her as their enemy until she was forced to leave.

_“I hope you never find him.”_

At least in Kirkwall she can always expect someone to steal her things or stab her in the back.

Juliet pats a spot on Kingpin’s neck. “C’mon,” the mabari steps off her foot as she turns away, “we’ve gotta find someplace warm tonight. I don’t know about you two, but I can’t sleep outside one more night.” Out of instinct, Juliet scoops Puppy up in her arms. He nuzzles against her arm. As they walk northeast, Juliet practices what she’ll say to the boss in the Hanged Man.

 

Now, while the Chantry sister did offer aid, Juliet refused to go to the Chantry. If she went, she would be under constant watch of the Sisters and Brothers—and Grand Cleric Elthina. She would’ve had to share a room with multiple Sisters. She could’ve been spotted using magic, or suspected of it. At least in the Hanged Man, she had a room to herself and drunkards to blame.  
The day she walked in that tavern, damn, I knew she meant something. A secretive background, a mysterious bag, two marks of nobility, and things on her face that lightened up when she was inside and darkened in daylight. How could I not write about her? 

My contacts told me what they could about her, but she just seemed to row into Ferelden from Alamar. They didn’t know who she was or her family or where she came from. I told them to talk with the boat master she came with; he wouldn’t be bought or threatened. “Go ahead,” he said with Bianca aimed at his throat, “I won’t betray her like that.” I couldn’t kill a man like that.  
I should say that when she came in I hadn’t met Hawke in person yet, but I’ve heard of him. He fought alongside Ewald and his men when a group of refugees tried to fight their way in. After that he became a part of Meeran’s mercenary group. He was making a name for himself…along with his brother. The fact that this girl—excuse me, young woman was so quiet and had a posture that commanded your attention, but wanted nothing of it caught my eye. (Minus the before mentioned, of course.)

I watched as she walked up to the barkeep and ordered food. Her dogs ate like wolves; snarling and snorting, ripping at their food. Compared to them, Juliet was calm in her eating habits—if only a bit overeager.

After she ate her meal, she started talking to the barkeep. That barkeep just stared and stared. Many people were. “Another Fereldan,” some whispered. “And she has two of those beasts? They’ll eat us out of home.” If she heard them, she paid them no mind. She was on a mission to get a room and a job. She spoke clearly and confidently with her back straight and shoulders squared. Even looked the man in the eye.

I think, the whispers caught the bigger mabari’s attention. He sat behind the young woman with the smaller one resting between his paws—I swear those things were bigger than the pup. He looked out at the crowd; dark brown eyes scanning over the crowd and lingering on the windows and doorway. Despite the whispers and Fereldans motioning to their full plate of food, he never left her side. For a moment, our eyes met. I’ll admit, I looked away from those intelligent eyes. Only to stare at the young woman’s bright yellow bag across her lower back. There weren’t any visible locks or enchantments; it was just simply a soft bag with books and coin inside.

With a flash of silver, she got a room in the Hanged Man. Now, since I saw that, I could only imagine that others less noble did too.

Juliet might not have felt the room’s atmosphere shift, but that black mabari did – and the pup. If their stiff walk and bristling fur was any indication. When the odd company walked by my table, half the patrons’ gaze followed them. I wasn’t entirely sure when she would be attacked, could have been a couple of days or even weeks, I just knew that she would be.

And I couldn’t let that happen, now could I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My attention--muse--is torn between this story and "How to be the Good Daughter." Which one will win? Kudos, comments, reblogs, and all will determine which one is fed.


	3. Magical Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through an unfortunate event, Juliet, Kingpin, and Puppy meet Varric.
> 
> Varric is a rather weak man.

Juliet never felt such peace and dread intermingle before for so long. It’s only been a few days, and she loves this inn. A constant wave of new and old people throughout the days and nights; listening to them laugh and tell their stories. Had it not been for her life lived here she wouldn’t have believed their outlandish tales. While the barkeeper refuses to hire her, she can afford the few coppers (or two silvers) at the end of the month. So long as Kingpin and Puppy behalf themselves and don’t attack the other patrons. While the food isn’t as rich as Tevene dishes, or as filling as the Fereldan foods, it is cheap and rather editable. Neither her or her company have gotten cholera from the water, too.

Having a place to rest her head, eat, and bathe eased her troubled mind.

During these last few days, she found an inexpensive public bathhouse near Lirene’s Fereldan Imports. Her hair is full of bounce and fluff, and the rashes have faded to a light brown with no flakes now that she’s bathing regularly again. Some of the bar patrons side-eye her when she enters; smelling sweet and flowery. Her soaps and oils tucked away deep in her bright yellow bag. With her back straight, shoulders squared, and eyes forward she makes a beeline to her room.

Even now, the Hanged Man is full of energy. Some people start to look familiar, but no one stays here long. Unless they have a room like her or other patrons. 

Stories filter through her mind; embellishing on what she heard from others. If only she had a stack of parchment, but paper, a luxury in her time, is expensive in Thedas. If she does manage to get some, she’ll have to make use of every square inch of it. Unfortunately, there is a growing noticeable lightness in one of her coin purses. The barkeep and many stall owners refuse to hire her; claiming they don’t need her or her company. Even the herbalist, Lady Elegant, sweet as she is, wants nothing to do with her. So long as she is responsible with her coin, they should be fine for a while longer.

Juliet perseveres during the day; she looks for jobs in Lowtown with Kingpin and Puppy in tow. (People may stare and sneer, call her Fereldan Bitch even, but none would attempt an attack with such ferocious breeds beside her.) They walk until her feet are sore and knees near buckling. Poor Puppy can barely keep up if left on the ground, but he tries his best not to whimper or fall behind. When the sun lowered over the horizon, with Hightown’s sparkles all around their heads, Juliet bathed at the bathhouse. Much to the displeasure of everyone, Kingpin and Puppy accompanied her; there were no rules that they couldn’t and were fairly well behaved. The water was warm enough to ease their joints and muscles. She took extra care for the pup’s developing body; rubbing along his legs and back. Kingpin mostly soaked in the tub with his head resting on the edge, until it was his turn for a massage. Both of them were showered in praise and kisses, with promises of a meal as soon as they get back to the Hanged Man.

Belly full, Puppy stretches out limp on Juliet’s belly now as they rest in her room. He sleeps so deep that he snores and yips with twitching legs. Juliet absentmindedly brushes her fingertips along his back as she stares up at the dimly lit up ceiling. One side of her body presses against the wall; Kingpin curls up on her other side. He lays between her and the door – ever ready to leap to it. 

Docked ears pointed toward the door; eyes staring, unblinking. The breaths he takes are deep and careful; not wanting to disrupt the air around his small pack. Juliet does not know what his life was like before he imprinted on her. The scars that litter his body are old. His body and mind were trained for war and hunting, but have transformed into protection. Their lives in Tevinter were quiet – they spent many days and nights in the library – up until Juliet spoke out against slavery. 

A memory of a scream and blood has her practicing her breathing again. She tries to match it with his. _Kirkwall is lively, this place in particular,_ she tries to reason with herself. _None of us are used to this._ Her amulet rests comfortably on her sternum – a heavy reminder.

_Or_ , a darker voice whispers in the back of her mind, _someone’s planning something._

_If that’s the case, I’ll be ready._ Her breath evens out, and anxiety fades away.

With eyes adjusted to the darkness, and with the aided help from the moon’s glow, she can make out the grain of the wooden ceiling. She follows random patterns; however, her gaze repeatedly falls to the locked door and back up to the closed window. Nothing seems amiss.  
The Hanged Man has quieted down since sunset. By her count, there’s only been two drunken brawls tonight. The night’s still young.

Juliet remains still and silent, not quite listening to the voices downstairs. Thoughts of Hightown’s promising glitter float into her mind. A promise for a better life that’s all around her, above her, but always out of reach. She has to save her money, before she can buy a house up there. Perhaps, now that she’s cleaned up and smells nice, a place up there will hire her. Even the Blooming Rose seems decent at this point. Someone up there, in that brothel, must need a good, deep conversation. Or a hug; she gives great hugs. The idea of having sex with a stranger always made her skin crawl and stomach squirm.

_Just not the Gallows._ In the days that passed, she has not gone back. Regardless of her current company, it’s best if she avoids it. (No sense for a lone apostate to go there by herself.) The very air of that place was thick with desperation. Men and women begging to get into the city; only to have guardsmen unable to grant them their requests. 

Kingpin’s head shoots up. He does not bark, growl, nor snort.

His imprint almost whispers out to him when he stealthily gets off the bed. Ears pointed forward with eyes at the door. Juliet places the pup behind her, and then reaches for her pen on a close nightstand. With the smallest tug at the Fade, her magic flows from her hand and into the pen. The silver-brown pen crackles and splinters in her grasp in delicate twists of emerald. Her fingers instinctively move themselves against the changing of the smooth finish to the silken grip. Rough maple wood crackles, elongates from her hold and past her legs until the sharp, gleaming blade covers the wakening pup. Wisps of green recede up the staff. Sturdy and strong, the encased green stone points at the door above Kingpin’s head. 

With no fire or even a candle in the room, the green glow seems so bright in their little corner. It barely stretches passed the nightstand. 

There are lit torches in the hallway. Three pairs of feet are outside her door. They shuffle back and forth before one person steps forward and the other two to the side. No one whispers. Soft _tinks_ of metalwork work against the lock.

Juliet stands up behind Kingpin. Her staff remains pointed at the door.

On her first night here, Juliet hid her bag in the ashes and logs of the fireplace. Television shows, movies, and books taught her that under the bed and floorboards are the first places people look for valuables. With a glance to the fireplace, she makes sure that it’s still undisturbed.

The door opens.

Snarling, Kingpin bursts at the intruders as a chain of lightening shoots above his head.  
The woman in the middle gets shocked to paralyzation. Her eyes roll into the back of her head with pink foam bubbling up at the corners of her mouth. Sparks bounce off her person when she falls to the ground.

“APSO—” Kingpin throws himself on top of the would-be, screaming thief. There’s a scream, a crunch, and then wet gurgles. The thief twitches for a short while.

Juliet runs to the door. The third is running away! He’ll tell the Templars! She’ll be sent to the Circle! Stripped of her staff, bracers, and amulet! Made Tranquil!

“Stop!” The green stone flashes and sparks. If she could just cast a silent spell. 

Kingpin rushes by her with a snarly viciously. Blood drips from his maw.

“Help!” he shouts as he runs around the corner. “Ap— _thwack_!” He falls over with an arrow in the front of his head.

Juliet comes to abrupt halt – nearly tripping over Kingpin – wide eyed and wild hair. He stands with his head down low and feet wide apart. The fur along his spine stands on end; it bristles up. His deep chested growls vibrate in her bones. A dwarf, dressed in his nightclothes, with blonde hair and a crossbow stands before them.

“Well,” he begins, holstering his weapon on his back, “I wasn’t expecting them to attack at such an odd hour. And only three? They couldn’t possibly have thought to take you on and your companion here, could they?” He nudges the corpse with his foot. “Speaking of which, could you…calm him. It’s unsettling.”

Juliet blinks. In the span of only a short few seconds, a small group attempted to attack and steal of from her and maybe even kill her. Kingpin ripped a man’s throat out, who nearly screamed what she is. She killed a woman, whose only weapons were a dagger and a lockpick. The last one, a man with only a dagger that resembled a butter knife, nearly escaped to the bar with the word “apostate” on his lips. Her heart is still beating erratically and breath is shaky. They had weapons, swords and daggers, but their words would have done the most damage to her well-being. Had this dwarf not intervened when he did, Templars would be hunting her down right now. If they figured out that she lived in the Tevinter Imperium—was once mentored by an abomination—

“I’m—I’m sorry, what?” Her stomach rises and falls in deep breathes. If she can just focus on her breathing.

“Your dog. He’s right at my face level, and—oh! There’s another one.”

Puppy comes bounding around the corner. He attacks the dead man’s foot with throaty growls. Kingpin takes a few steps forward; just in case the dwarf decides to reach for his crossbow.

“M-mabari, actually,” she corrects. She walks up to the pup and her left hand, though shaky, scoops up under him. “Let go.”

Puppy does so with a lick to his chops and a wagging tail. He attacked three (already dead) people!

Focusing on her breath, Juliet stands tall before the dwarf. The blade of her staff pointed skyward gleaming orange in the torchlight. “Wh—what is your name?”

“Where are my manners? Varric Tethras at your service.” He gives a little bow. “And yours, my lady?” The playfulness in his voice at “my lady” makes her smile a little bit.

“Juliet Flowers.” A small hesitation when saying her last name. “You’ve met Puppy already and that there’s Kingpin.”

The older mabari has since stopped his growling, and makes his way up to the dwarf. He sniffs at the man’s chest, an easy feat really, and walks around him sniffing at his scent.

“Flowers, hm? That’s an interesting family name. What’s he doing?” Varric asks, being sure to stand perfectly still but keeps a close eye on the canine. He pays particular attention the fresh blood ooze down the wrinkles around his mouth. Through the signature dog smell, there is a distinct tang of blood.

Juliet nods her thanks at her chosen surname. “He’s just checking you out. Making sure you’re not some crazy person who’ll attack us like these three did.” She glances down at the dead body. The arrow protrudes from the back of his skull; blood rapidly pools around his head.

“Why,” he exclaims, baffled, “I would never do that! To think a dog would—”

She looks back at Varric and shouts, “Mabari!” 

Puppy barks angrily at him.

Kingpin pushes against Varric’s shoulder when he makes his way back to his imprint’s side. Mabari are not common housedogs.

“My apologies,” he places his hand over his heart and dips at his waist once more, “I meant no offense. It’s merely a curiosity of mine. Can he—” The old wooden staircase creeks under someone’s weight. It was always the first step to creek.

“What’s going on up there?” The barkeep’s voice sounds from the bar. He moves up the stairs.

“Quick!” Varric urges Juliet into large room with bright red drapery, with only little protests from her. “Let me handle this. And keep those two quiet.”

Juliet presses her back flat against the wall with her right hand, her staff wielding hand, far from the door; pressing Puppy to her chest. Kingpin lays down at her feet – hunched and ready to bolt at whoever passes the open threshold. 

They’re talking, but she cannot hear them over the erratic pounding of her heart or the blood rushing passed her ears. Her lips are pressed in a firm, thin line. Her breath comes out shaky through her nose. Juliet does not move from her spot along the wall. A slight twitch starts at her shoulder and runs down her right arm sends her mind reeling; thinking that she will be discovered with slightest movement. With eyes wide open, torch light catching in her glasses, she stares at the gaping door. Surely, the barkeep didn’t see her enter here or use magic. It’s impossible! Everyone was downstairs, drinking or drunk, or sleeping in their rooms.

Her shoulder continues to twitch at the strain. To pull at the Fade, so that her staff may be a pen again, is too much of a risk for her to make. Someone might see the unnatural glow; and to move her arm seems just as damning. It’s only when the barkeep follows the trail of dead bodies, does Juliet dare to move her arm and hide in a closet with her two mabari.

There’s a muffled shout— _Found the other two_ —and someone’s running down the hall and out the bar doors. A pause. In this confined space, with wafts of wood, mabari, and unknown scents and listening to her own breathing, Juliet’s heart slows. Her mind eases, thoughts slowing down for her to properly process them. 

Her amulet hangs. Silence.

“It’s alright,” Varric’s voice is gentle; quiet even. Juliet stilled—Kingpin readied himself to burst out, Puppy wiggles in her arm—but she did not jump. “You can come out now. He went to go get a guy I know; and won’t be back until morning.” 

Varric saw her staff, and did not scream what she is. Even killed the person who almost did scream that word out. If he told the barkeep, he would not have told her when he would be back. He would not have kept such friendly conversation either; she could have run away during that exchange. She hasn’t heard a whisper of Templars—similar word or otherwise. While Kingpin is twisted around her, with his head and ears pointed at the double doors, he hasn’t growled or snapped his jaws.

Juliet’s movements are slow as she places Puppy beside her. The small brown and black pup remains just as still as he stares at the doors. After moving her staff to her non-dominate hand, she opens the closet door to ease herself out of hiding. With one leg out, and an eye on the staring dwarf, Kingpin walks out before Juliet. He stands in-between them, his head low and eyes unreadable. 

It’s a slow, agonizing process; Varric watching the three of them as they watch him. Despite her apprehension, her heart keeps a normal pace; it doesn’t even race when she puts Puppy down and pierces the ground with the bladed end of her staff. Metal going through wood is a small, confident sound.

Aside from the torches and murmuring downstairs, all is quiet.

Juliet stares down at Varric.

After a pause, Varric motions to her staff and says, “I see you’re a mage. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

When she laughs—a tiny, gentle laugh that she tries to hide behind a hand—the other three visibly relax. Puppy runs back to her, nuzzling her leg and licking her ankle. Kingpin, with an eye on the dwarf, walks back and sits by her side. Varric places Bianca down, being sure that she doesn’t point at the other woman.

“Was it that obvious?” Juliet asks after her laughing spell.

Varric motions for her to sit at the table. She accepts with a soft thanks; her staff engulfs itself in green whips once more, before she places it behind her ear. Varric’s eyes widened at such an action. He had never seen a mage change their staff before. And hers seemed so natural.   
“Only a little. If not for the staff, then for that one dead guy with foam around his mouth.” At her concerned expression, he adds, “Don’t worry. I told the barkeep she had the tendency to get into some bad stuff, and took a little too much before she died. No one knows you’re a mage, well, except me of course. And I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you, Serah Tethras. It…it means a lot to me that you’d keep this a secret. I,” Juliet clutches her amulet. She looks down at the two mabari at her feet. Kingpin rests his massive head in her lap; she absentmindedly pets him with a smile. “I really d-don’t want to go to th—the Circle.” She looks at him with tears in her eyes.

“No one ever does.”

 

After that, I took Juliet under my wing. Call me a weak man, but I couldn’t stand to see her go about Kirkwall as she did. Lost. Jobless. Gullible. I taught her how to use a bow and arrow as neither of us saw it a good idea to use magic here in broad daylight. (She stilled practiced late at night with her face concealed.) It took her seven months before she could hit a bull’s eye. During those months, she would write small passages on herself. That pen of hers never ran out of ink; wish I had it. When I finally gave her a journal she lit up like the sun; wrote some small stories that made decent coin to the right publisher. When she wasn’t writing, she found the odd job on the Chanter’s board. Sometimes she’d watch the Lowtown kids, but her eyes always went back to Hightown. If you look close enough, you’d see those eyes of hers flicker back up there.

After five more months, word arrived from across the sea that the Hero of Ferelden had defeated the Blight. Despite coming from there, Kirkwall was her home now. Just as it was to the Champion. 

It was a busy year in the city. That’s when the Qunari landed. A great storm caught their ship and left hundreds of warriors stranded in the city, waiting to return home.

That’s also when the trouble began with the mages. The Templars had become very powerful under Knight-Commander Meredith.

But most importantly, that’s when Princess and the Champion first met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed my muse! Kudos, comments, and reblogs on Tumblr are the best way to do it. Tell me your thoughts, hopes, and such for the upcoming chapters.
> 
> I'm probably half way done writing Chapter Four. That's when we FINALLY meet the Hawke brothers. Should be interesting.
> 
> ( **Ending Author’s Note:** The last couple of paragraphs are directly taken from the game itself. Thanks to the YouTube channel 19thHour I was able to write them down, and take notes of how the scenery looks.)


End file.
